


He Shouldn't Have Done That

by WrittenByCee



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Anxiety, Break Up, Death, Domestic Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Grief/Mourning, References to Depression, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:41:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24216082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrittenByCee/pseuds/WrittenByCee
Summary: He shouldn’t have done that. That’s what he told himself the second the bottle shattered loudly against the wall. He shouldn’t have fucking done that. But he had done it. And as soon as he saw the amber coloured alcohol splash and the thousands pieces of glass fly in the room he knew that not only he had lost himself but that he also had just lost you.
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Reader, Leon S. Kennedy/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 99





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I write Leon and also my very first RE one-shot.  
> I was mainly inspired by the Vendetta version of Leon for this work, so be ready to read about alcoholism and the other topics mentioned in the tags (I suggest that you skip this story if you're not confortable with them.)  
> Please, don't forget to leave kudos and write a comment to let me know your opinion on this one-shot and if you would like a sequel.

_He shouldn’t have done that_. That’s what he told himself the second the bottle shattered loudly against the wall. _He shouldn’t have fucking done that_. But he had done it. And as soon as he saw the amber coloured alcohol splash and the thousands pieces of glass fly in the room he knew that not only he had lost himself but that he also had just lost you.   
Face hidden behind your arms to cover yourself, you had yelped his name, terrified for yourself, and for the first time in your life terrified of him. That scream had paralysed him, blue eyes filled with panic, and he had stared at you and then as his shaking hands, horrified and ashamed of what he had just done. _He shouldn’t have done that_.   
“Oh my god… baby, I didn’t mean … I’m so sorry.” He tried to approach you to see if you were okay, hoping, begging that he hadn’t hurt you – he would never forgive himself if he had - but you pushed him away with all your strength. “Don’t fucking touch me, Leon!” He staggered back, stunned, and almost tumbled to the floor, the alcohol still making his gestures rather clumsy. His anxious heart was beating so loudly in his chest he could hear it in his sudden hot ears. _This couldn’t happen_. “I can’t do this anymore, Leon. I can’t.” You cried, tears flowing down your cheeks _._ And yet it was happening. And he should have seen this coming. Hunnigan had told him. Chris had told him. Even Claire … _You’re going to lose her, Leon_. But he hadn’t listened. And now, here he was, a drunkard who had almost hit the woman he loved with a bottle of whiskey. _He shouldn’t have done that._ He kept repeating to himself.

You both stood still for a moment, wondering how you had let all this happen. How did he become such a drunken mess? And how did you silently allow him to be so? What had happened to both of you, to your couple? Barely a year ago, you couldn’t keep their hands to themselves and now, it was almost as if those very same hands were only good at fighting. Where was the passion gone? Where was the happiness gone?  
“What happened to us?” You softly whispered the question, voice filled with despair and regrets, still keeping your distance.  
Leon closed his exhausted blue eyes and looked down at his feet and you noticed a tear running on his sickly pale face. “I don’t know.” He said calmly. “But I know I never wanted to hurt you. Never. You have to believe me, baby. I would rather die than raise a hand on you.”  
“And yet you did.” You replied with a sad bitterness. He briefly hid his face in his hands before running them in his hair, grabbing his blond strands in incomprehension and frustration, eyes looking up at the ceiling in search for a reason, some sort of explanation. But he found none. _He shouldn’t have done that_. Why had he done that?   
“ I’m leaving.” Leon’s heart jumped in his chest. It took him barely a second to process those three little words but when he did it was as if the floor was crumbling under his feet. You hadn’t just said that. You couldn’t. You tried to head for the door but as soon as you started walking, Leon began panicking again. Alarmed and completely distressed, he tried to make you stay, stepping on your way. His shivering hands grabbed you, making you jumped. “No, please. Please, Y/N. Don’t do that.” He begged and his normally self-assured serene voice sounded so broken as if he was chocking on his words. He was out of breath. “I’m begging you.” 

God knows he had never begged for anything, never, in his entire life, despite all the opportunities his dangerous life had given him to do so. And yet today, he was begging you. You. The only reason he was willing to fight and live in this dark fucked up world. Guess we all beg in the end, when we notice our hope, our happiness and our love slowly being taken away from us.   
“I’m gonna fix this, Y/N. I swear.” He cried out, still gripping your arms tightly. “I’m gonna change. This won’t happen again.”   
“Let me through, Leon.” You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t allow yourself to meet his eyes because you knew that if you did, you wouldn’t be able to get out of here. You would stay and ultimately spend another night with him to make sure he doesn’t faint or choke in his own vomit, if not both. Then, in the morning, you both would pretend that nothing happened. And the truth is, you couldn’t do that anymore. You were tired of it and you didn’t have the strength to do it anymore. It was not the help Leon needed. You could not help him.

Leon awkwardly fell on his knees, his hands now holding your legs to keep you with him. He started crying and pleading, and your heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. “Please, get up.” You asked with a trembling voice but he didn’t listen and instead he buried his face in your legs to violently sob against you. “Leon.” You had never seen him like this. It broke your heart and you wondered where you found the strength to stay up and not crumble on the floor with him to hug him tight. You repeated his name and tried to softly push him away. “Please let me go.” You said his name again before gently struggling yourself out of his imploring embrace. 

His hands fell flat to the ground and he looked up at you, still on his knees. “Don’t” was the only thing that came out of his knotted throat. “I need you” He managed to add. You let a big tear fall from your eyes, followed by a loud sob you couldn’t keep in your chest. “We are toxic for each other.”  
“No we’re not. Don’t say that, okay? Don’t say that!”   
“You’re toxic to me!” You finally shouted. “I’m … miserable, Leon. I’m fucking miserable! Do you hear me?” He stared at you, quietly and deeply saddened by your words, finally realising the extent of the damage he had done, understanding that it was more than just a bottle shattering against the wall. It was months of pain and neglect. “I can’t keep on doing this! I can’t keep on watching you drink yourself to death and shutting my eyes, telling myself that this is normal, that it is the predictable result of all those years of trauma you’ve been through. Because it’s not! Because I know you’re better than this! And I don’t want to have to leave my apartment in the middle of the night anymore … with the fear to find you in an ethylic coma when I get there.” You paused to hear what he had to say in his defence but he remained silent. And so you continued venting because you had so much more to say. “I didn’t become your girlfriend to hold your hand when you’re that close to lose consciousness on the couch or to undress you because you’re covered in vomit and you can’t do it yourself. I became your girlfriend because I thought that together we would finally have the peace, the happiness and the love that we both deserved considering how terrible our life can be because of our work. I became your girlfriend because I loved you so. fucking. much! I want my life back! I want the Leon I fell in love with back!”

The apartment went silent again as you both stared at each other quietly, both completely heartbroken and as shattered as the bottle of whisky on the floor nearby. And maybe that’s what you needed. Maybe that was the only way for you both to realise the mess you both had grown accustomed to. Maybe that was the only way for you both to finally open your eyes on your couple, to see you had screwed each other’s life instead of making it more beautiful. Maybe that yeah, as terrible as it sounded, you needed a bottle of whisky smashing against a wall to understand all this.

But nevertheless, as you walked out the door and left Leon on the ground, you couldn’t help but feel terrible for leaving him as much as he couldn’t help but repeat himself _he shouldn’t have done that_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After I received some messages telling me to write a sequel for "He Shouldn't Have Done That", there it is. But I must warn you, the angst is strong with this one. So get ready to cry!  
> Oh, and I must warn you, that this chapter revolves around the theme of religion in addition to the theme of alcoholism and it also contain strong sexual terms. So if you're not okay with that, please don't read.

**W** hen Leon was a kid, his mother would take him to church every Sunday, dressed in his Sunday best, which was a fancy white shirt and a pair of trousers he was only allowed to wear on Sunday. Needless to say, he hated Sundays.   
But his mother was such a good Christian, always wearing a silver cross around her neck, always having a Bible under her pillow. She’s the one who had told him to believe. She had told him to believe in God, in Jesus and Mary, in the Holy Trinity, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. She had told him to believe there was someone up there watching over him, judging him, someone capable of punishing him if he would ever misbehave, sin. Someone powerful, so powerful he could decide his destiny, his fate, his life, his death, and even his beyond. Someone who would accompany him to an heavenly residence after death, that sweet oh so beautiful paradise.   
Yes, that’s what his mother had told him. And he had listened and followed her teachings to the letter, maybe even longer that he could remember. He had done it because nothing could bring his mother more happiness than him behaving like the sweet choirboy from the suburbs, and that’s all he wanted back then, make his mother happy.   
But with all the horrors he had seen, Leon Scott Kennedy could not believe in any god anymore. He had buried all his belief, all his teachings - much to his sweet mother’s regrets - in the ashes of Raccoon City a long time ago. And with time, he even wondered if he had ever really believed in the first place.

_“That city changed me, in more ways that I can think of. It turned me into the man I am today and sometimes I wonder who I would have become if I had just stayed home on that day instead of driving right into the hellish nightmare that was expecting me there.  
Possibly, some city cop whose worst worry would have been to know if there was enough paper in the printer. Maybe it wouldn’t have been that bad, who knows? After all, that dude would have never become the mess I am today, that’s for sure. That dude would have never found comfort in alcohol. He would have never cast God away in favour of something able to help him reach some ephemeral paradise, something that just needed a glass to be worshipped, something that preferred cheers to amen. No, that dude would have had a nice quiet life in the suburbs with a lovely wife, two beautiful kids and a dog. And like my mother, he would have taken his charming perfect family to Church on Sunday. Would it have been better for me? For us? Maybe, cause surely, he wouldn’t have done the same mistakes I did”_

7 weeks ago - D.S.O Headquarters – Washington DC

You couldn’t help but focus on the fancy pen relentlessly tapping against the glass table. Sitting at the end of the table, perfectly still, his old face appearing somewhat more rigid than usual, the President looked very impatient. And his annoyance was for once more than justified. Leon was terribly late, and by ‘terribly’ you meant ‘almost fifty minutes late’ to be more precise.   
But the real problem was that he usually was never late. On the contrary, Leon was always the first person to arrive at morning meetings, most of the time carrying cups of coffee for each D.S.O agents including a special one for you: a large black coffee with extra foam on top and a small heart drawn next to your name on the cup, perfect to make you smile like an idiot - Your heart ached as you thought about it and realised there would be no more hearts drawn on your coffee cup now.

You discreetly glimpsed at your watch again, worried and imagining the worse. What if something happened to Leon? What if he drank too much again and fainted at home? Or worse, what if he had a car accident? After all, last time you heard him on your voicemail he sounded devastated and drunker than ever.   
“I am sure Agent Kennedy must be stuck in traffic, Mr President.” Ingrid Hunnigan dared say in his defence.  
“Then why isn’t he answering his bloody phone?” The President slammed the pen against the table and let out an angry growl. Hunnigan mumbled, trying to find something to say but the President cut her off before she could even pronounce a word. “Let’s start without him.”   
“Of course, Mr President.” She stood up and handed out a case file to each agent sitting at the table. When she got to you, she whispered, “Where is Leon?” You briefly looked at her and shook your head. She certainly didn’t know Leon and you had broken up. After all, it had only been a couple of days. “I don’t know.” You mouthed, trying to keep the nascent tears in your eyes.   
She probably noticed how sad and worried sick you were since she pressed her hand on your shoulder before taking her place back next to the President to explain the content of the documents on the table. “An informer from the BSAA has recently sent us information concerning a possible …”

All of a sudden, the door of the meeting room opened widely, interrupting Hunnigan in her explanations. Leon had finally arrived. Seeing him instantly took a weight off your mind and you sighed, definitely relieved. But the relief was short.   
“Sorry, I’m late.” His voice sounded off and rather somnolent. Hand still on the doorknob he looked at all of the persons around the table with half-lidded eyes. “Oh, seems like everyone is here. Must be a pretty damn important meeting then.” _Oh no. Not now. Not here. Leon._   
“Agent Kennedy. Thank you for finally honouring us with your presence.” The president declared with a cutting tone that cast a new chill in the meeting room.   
“You’re welcome” Leon replied, definitely too drowsy to get the sarcasm.   
You almost gasped, refusing to believe it was actually happening, and watched Leon stagger towards his usual seat next to Hunnigan. She silently gave him a file and discreetly poured him a glass of water to help him sober up a little since she had noticed – just like everyone else in this room – that your ex-boyfriend was mighty drunk. Then, she resumed her monologue, ignoring Leon’s grimace as he drank his water contrary to the President, who was glaring at him, and you, who were staring at his face, completely eating up by guilt and sorrow. Were you the one responsible for this? You thought that leaving him would probably help him realise his alcoholism not fall deeper in it.

Despite the huge level of alcohol running in his blood, Leon was astonishingly listening to the reunion with the biggest care. Actually, he was paying so much attention that when Ingrid Hunnigan pronounced his name and the words “Los Illuminados” in the same sentence he almost hit the roof. “This again? Seriously?” He cut her off, surprising everyone. “You want me to deal with that Spanish bullshit again? Is that what you’re going to say, Hunnigan? Like I haven’t done enough, already.” Ingrid suddenly didn’t know what to do with herself, shocked by Leon’s sudden anger towards her. He had never talked to her like that. That was not in his nature.   
“Leon, please just let her finish before...” You whispered to calm him down, hoping he would cooperate. “Excuse me. You’re talking to me? You? Really.” He sneered, clearly angry. “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore. After all, you haven’t been answering my calls since you dumped me.” You wanted to reply. But you knew that it would only aggravate the situation and make Leon angrier than he already was and the last thing you wanted was to make a scene or cause him more trouble.

“Is this a joke, Agent Kennedy?” The President growled and glared, definitely irritated by Leon’s behaviour. “No. The joke was your election, sir!” _Oh God! Tell me he didn’t say that._   
There was a sudden heavy silence. Everyone exchanged some aghast quick looks as the President was staring at Leon, his face reddened by anger, ready to burst. “Get out of here, Agent Kennedy. You are furloughed.” But Leon didn’t move and, with an air of defiance, simply replied “Whom are you going to send on your suicide mission if you kick me out? I’m the only one who can do the job here and you fucking know it.”   
“Out! Out! Get out of here! I’ve had enough of you!” The President shouted, menacingly pointing his finger at Leon who remained still without batting an eyelid. “Leave this building now, Kennedy!” You decided to get up and grabbed Leon’s arm to lead him out. “Come on, Leon. You’re drunk. Let’s get you out to sober up a bit.” You said with an incredible calm but he refused to follow you “Of course I’m drunk. What else can I be? You left me. My job fucked me up. And I’m working with selfish assholes who clearly don’t care about that and want me to continue this fucking job till the day I die. So yeah, what else can I be if not drunk?”

_“Gosh, if only I had known back then what the consequences of my actions would be, I would have never said those things or behaved like this. But regrets don’t matter. They don’t matter because it doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself I shouldn’t have done that, I know that there’s no turning back. I know that you will never come back. And I don’t blame you. I can’t blame you because the only person to blame here is me. And I don’t expect your forgiveness either. I know I don’t deserve it and how could you forgive me when even I can’t forgive myself? No, I expect nothing for you.”_

3 weeks ago – In a bar somewhere in New York 

He didn’t know her name and he was quite sure he hadn’t even asked before locking himself with her in the toilet. And truth to be told, he couldn’t care less. He didn’t need to know her name to take his pants down and he didn’t even need to hear a single word coming from a pretty mouth either. Actually, all he wanted that mouth of hers to do was to keep sucking him off right now. Yes, that’s all he wanted.   
Hand in her black hair, his head against the dirty wall, he was feeling dizzy with pleasure … and alcohol, especially alcohol. A routine he had grown even fonder of since he had been furloughed. “Yeah, right, suck that cock, you dirty slut.” How many glasses had he had since he entered that bar? Six? Eight? Meh, better not thinking about it right now. “That’s it.”

His cell phone suddenly vibrated on the floor, the blue light of the screen catching his weak attention. He managed to read “Hunnigan” and sighed. “What the hell does she want?” He mumbled, annoyed.   
“What did you say?” The girl asked but he chose not to answer and instead shove his cock back in her mouth. But the phone kept on buzzing on the grimy tiles and Leon couldn’t take his mind or his eyes off it, his professionalism getting the better of his drunken self. “Fuck” He cursed as he bent to grab the device, pushing the girl away from him, making her lose her balance and fall on her rear.   
“Better be important, Hunnigan.” He immediately said, annoyance tinting his drunken voice.   
“Leon.” Her voice was strangled and trembling. It didn’t take a genius to get she had been crying. And Leon knew that if Hunnigan was crying then something terrible had certainly happened. “Give me a second, Hunnigan.”

He quickly pulled his jeans back up and pushed the door of the toilet, leaving his brief conquest high and dry on the floor. “Where are you going?” She squealed but he didn’t listen. He got out of the bar to find a quiet place, phone still against his ear, listening to his partner sniff on the other side of the line. “Alright. What’s going on? Do you need anything?” He was worried. Maybe something had happened to her. “No” She said, her voice shuddering even more than before. “Where are you? Are you alone?” She asked.   
“Yeah. I’m outside a bar, in New York. Why?” He dared ask, impatient yet apprehensive to know what was actually going on. “Sit” He frowned and froze. That didn’t sound good. Nothing is ever good when someone tells you to sit down. “Hunnigan.”   
“ Y/N is dead.”

It was as if someone heavy and massive had instantly dropped on him, as if something had punched his stomach and crushed his chest in a single move, preventing him from breathing, preventing his heart from beating, preventing all his members from moving.   
That was not possible. This couldn’t be happening. This was a dream, a nightmare or a perhaps hallucination cast by alcohol. But as soon as Leon heard Hunnigan saying his name again, he knew this was too real for this to be the mere fruit of his imagination or his subconscious.   
“How?” It was the only word that he managed to say, feeling too numb to make a complete sentence right now. “Leon that wasn’t your fault.”   
“How?” He insisted. He wanted to know. He needed to know. He needed to know why you would never come back to him, why he would never see you again, kiss you again. But foremost, he needed to know who was the son of a bitch responsible for it.   
“ In a mission in Spain.”

His phone immediately fell to the humid ground, breaking in a thousand pieces just like Leon’s whole body. His knees bent under the sudden weight of pain, anger and guilt and soon he collapsed to the sidewalk, completely appalled, tears flooding his blue eyes. 

He had done this. It was his fault. All his fault. 

Disoriented and panting, he started looking all around him for something, anything that could help him get out of this hell. But there was nothing and he was alone. He would forever be alone now. 

He had killed you. You were dead because of him. 

Leon screamed, face reddened by rage, angry tears flowing down his face. His fists hit the ground repeatedly, hard, so hard, his knuckles started bleeding. But he didn’t care. He didn’t even see it. He couldn’t feel that pain either. The only pain he could feel right now was the one from his heart being torn out from his chest, a pain that would ultimately leave an emptiness he would never be able to fill ever again. But he wanted to feel pain. He wanted to feel that precise pain, finding it a fitting punishment for everything he had done that had lead to this moment, that had led to your death.

Was it God punishing him? Was his mother right all along? Was He making him pay for what the pain he had brought you, for all the mistakes he had done, for choosing to worship a fucking bottle of whisky instead of Him? Was it his plan all along?

“IS THAT WHAT YOU FUCKING WANTED?” Leon shouted on his knees, looking at the menacing stormy sky.

He bent over the sidewalk, head in his arms, sobbing and sniffing loudly, moaning your name, begging you to come back. “Please don’t leave me here.” But just like God, when Leon was a little boy praying with his mother at the Sunday mass, you didn’t answer. “I’m sorry.”   
He had never wanted this to happen to you. He had never wanted your life to end like this. All he had ever wanted for you was your happiness even if it meant a long and beautiful life without him.  
Because if a bottle of whisky smashed against the wall had made him realise one thing is that you deserved to find the person that could love you better than him, a person to worship you just as his mother worshipped God and he worshipped his liquor. Because you were the only thing worth worshipping in this goddamn world, the only thing he would gladly believe in. Because, if religion was meant to bring comfort, if God was truly there to watch over him, judge him and punish him as his mother had told him then you were his God all along.   
After all, who if not you brought him the comfort when he needed it? Who if not you watched over him when he was in a very bad way? Who if not you judged him when he needed to be judged and no one dared to do it? Who if not you can make him fall on his knees like a pilgrim and wish for a paradise just to have the hope he would one day see you again? 

He stayed on that sidewalk for at least an hour, still and quiet, completely empty, until two policemen sent by Hunnigan went to look for him. “Are you okay, sir?” No, no he was not. And he wasn’t even sure he would be okay ever again. But he got better.

_“ I haven’t had a single drink in three weeks. Hunnigan says that I should feel proud but I don’t. Because look what I needed to quit.”_

Leon looked at the flowered marble tomb at his feet, staring at your name with an intense sadness and melancholy he would never be able to get rid of. He had taken him a while to come here, refusing to step a foot in this cemetery even for you funeral because that would be admitting your death and he couldn’t do that. But that he was here, he couldn’t help but acknowledge how cathartic talking to you was.

_“ I’m leaving for Spain tomorrow. President’s order. I guess that despite being a complete asshole he is not very resentful. I have no idea what’s expecting me there but I promise you, I’ll find whoever is responsible your death and I’ll make them pay.  
They will learn they shouldn’t have done that.”_


End file.
